


Two Birds, One Stone

by Nightwang



Series: SladeRobin Weekend 2020 [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Day 2: Abduction/Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Injury, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Rape/Non-con, SladeRobin Week, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightwang/pseuds/Nightwang
Summary: “You got kidnapped by Deathstroke?!” Jason asked, incredulous, if rather redundantly. Dick rolled his eyes like Jason was the biggest idiot in the room which- totally wasn’t fair.“I didn’t getkidnappedbecause I’m not a kid,” he said, like that’s what they should be worrying about right now, “I got abducted.Yougot kidnapped.”For the SladeRobin Weekend prompt Abduction/Kidnapping.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: SladeRobin Weekend 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716694
Comments: 12
Kudos: 252
Collections: SladeRobin Weekend 2020





	Two Birds, One Stone

**Author's Note:**

> So I didn't quite get this out on day 2 whoops but I'm posting it now :)

Jason was having a bad day - scratch that - a bad _month_ , starting with Nightwing going missing and ending with Jason tied to a chair with fucking _Deathstroke_ standing over him.

“Nice of you to join us,” the mercenary said, a smirk on his face. Jason had never seen him without his mask before, had never really interacted with him at all. That was more Nightwing’s ballpark. Or Batman’s.

Wait. _Us_? A sharp clink of metal on stone drew his attention to the opposite wall. Nightwing was on his knees on the other side of the room, hands tied behind his back and connected to the wall by a chain. There was a scowl to rival Bruce’s on his maskless face.

“Dick?” Jason gasped, because he was bare faced and Bruce had drilled the correct responses into them. Masks meant codenames, no masks meant civilian names, even though Dick was still clearly wearing the rest of his Nightwing costume.

“Hey Little Wing,” he said with a wry smile, like they’d bumped into each other on patrol and not in Deathstroke’s fucking dungeon - or whatever this was.

“You got kidnapped by Deathstroke?!” Jason asked, incredulous, if rather redundantly. Dick rolled his eyes like Jason was the biggest idiot in the room which- totally wasn’t fair.

“I didn’t get _kidnapped_ because I’m not a kid,” he said, like that’s what they should be worrying about right now, “I got abducted. _You_ got kidnapped.”

Jason spluttered because - hello - he wasn’t a kid either. He was fourteen! But before he could voice his objections Deathstroke interrupted, fingers pinching his brow and an expression like he was regretting even getting up this morning.

“Enough!” His voice was low, almost a growl, carrying an unmistakable air of danger, and with it an abrupt mood shift. Dick clenched his jaw shut, eyes widening briefly before his face became sullen and wary. Jason didn’t like the look one bit, shifting uneasily against his restraints, the back of his neck prickling.

“One bird wasn’t good enough for you?” Jason sneered, determined not to let fear leak out into his words, “you going for a three bird roast? Coz I’ve got to tell you, I think we’re one short.”

For such a big guy Deathstroke sure could move fast. Jason was slammed back against the chair hard enough to knock the air from his lungs and make the chair legs creak protestingly where they were bolted to the ground.

One large hand spanned the width of his chest, Deathstroke’s furious face close enough that Jason must have been a bit cross eyed trying to meet his gaze.

“Don’t think I won’t kill you, little bird,” he breathed into the scant air between them.

“Slade!” Dick’s voice was hard. Deathstroke leaned back enough that Jason could curl forwards, gasping in a much needed breath. Deathstroke turned to shoot Dick a look that - turned away as he was - Jason couldn’t see. He could see Dick’s reaction though, the stiffening of already tense muscles, teeth bared in a primal show of anger. There was something nagging at the back of Jason’s mind, a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Why not kill me?” He mused aloud, breaking the sudden tension as both men turned to look at him. “Why kidnap me?”

Damn it, he’d meant to say abduct. No matter what Dick implied Jason was no child. Still the meaning was the same, and Deathstroke had never shown an interest in Jason before.

Deathstroke smiled nastily and prowled closer to Dick like a predator closing in on its prey. “You’re here, little bird, because this one won’t fucking behave unless someone else’s life is on the line.” He fisted a hand into Dick’s hair as he said it and shook him a little.

“But- what do you want Nightwing for?” He knew, vaguely, that Dick had been Deathstroke’s apprentice in the past, but that couldn’t be what Deathstroke wanted now, surely. Dick was an adult, a vigilante in his own right, too old to be trained as Deathstroke’s underling.

Deathstroke twisted his fingers in Dick’s hair and tugged his head back so that he was looking up at him. “Oh me and Grayson go way back, don’t we sweetheart. Old friends, if you will.”

Dick snarled something back at him but Jason wasn’t listening. His attention had been caught by Dick’s suddenly exposed throat, and the string of dark bruises there. Black and purple smudges that could have been anything - could have been finger marks - except they were too random, too blotchy and they led a trail down underneath the neck of Dick’s uniform.

It hit Jason like a brick. Deathstroke’s weird interest in Dick, the fact that he knew his identity but hadn’t done anything with it, the fact that Dick had been missing for a month now and yet he looked fine and not dead or horribly tortured. Whenever Deathstroke turned up Bruce and Dick had always kept Jason away from him, preferring to deal with it themselves. At the time Jason hadn’t thought much of it. Hadn’t thought much of the fact that they never really spoke about Dick’s time as Deathstroke’s apprentice. He’d been about Jason’s age, if he recalled correctly. The thought turned his stomach.

Deathstroke must have seen the realisation on his face because he smirked, and his hand gentled in Dick’s hair, petting rather than twisting.

Dick must have seen it too because he ducked away from Deathstroke’s hand with a scowl, turning pleading eyes on Jason. Whatever he was trying to say with that look Jason wasn’t getting it, still too caught up in his revelation.

Slade didn’t let Dick get very far, curling his hand around the nape of Dick’s neck possessively, his thumb stroking up over the litter of bruises. Dick shuddered hard, his lip curling in disgust.

“Stop fucking touching him!” Jason snapped, before he could think better of it. He just couldn’t stand watching Deathstroke pet Dick like he was some kind of...prized cat.

Slade straightened, a dark look in his remaining eye. Jason shivered at the intensity of it, caught like a deer in the headlights, as Deathstroke moved towards him.

“Slade don’t,” Dick said, and this time it was less hard, more desperate. Deathstroke ignored him, coming to tower over Jason.

“I’ll touch whoever I want, little bird,” Slade growled, “if I want to touch him, I’ll touch him. If I want to touch _you_...” his hand came down to rest heavily on Jason’s thigh, uncomfortably high up. Jason jerked, snarling, as Slade’s hand squeezed, fingertips digging into his inner thigh.

Jason was so caught up with Deathstroke that the sharp clang startled him enough to flinch. Dick had thrown himself forwards, the chain pulling taut behind him. He looked angrier than Jason had ever seen him, even during some of his and Bruce’s worst fights. Slade smiled smugly but - thankfully - pulled his hand away to rest it on Jason’s shoulder instead.

“Leave him alone!” Dick hissed through gritted teeth. He was trembling with rage, his gaze fixed on where Slade was touching Jason. “He’s fourteen for God’s sake!”

“So were you,” Slade said with a slick smile. Jason’s stomach bucked. Despite all his protestations that he wasn’t a kid - thank you very much - the idea of a fourteen year old Dick Grayson being subjected to Slade’s touch made his insides squirm in horror.

Deathstroke’s hand came down to hold onto one of Jason’s fingers, twisting it sharply. It broke with a snap and Jason howled, surprised by the sudden pain. Dick was shouting, but Jason couldn’t hear the words over the agony as Slade broke another finger.

Deathstroke let him go abruptly and Jason curled over, panting, a soft whine slipping out from between clenched teeth.

“What the fuck?!” There was a tremor in Dick’s voice. When Jason looked up Dick was staring at Slade with wide eyes. The unmistakable click of the safety being removed made both of them fall silent. Metal pressed against the side of Jason’s head, digging in hard enough to bruise.

“I’m going to unchain you now,” Deathstroke spoke slowly, like Dick was a wild animal he was trying not to spook. “You’re going to behave or I’m going to blow Robin’s brains out.”

He pressed the gun in harder for a moment, before moving to stand over Dick, his gun aimed unerringly at Jason’s head. He bent and, one handed, unlocked the chains behind Dick’s back. As they clattered to the ground Slade stepped back out of reach. Dick stayed on his knees, rolling his shoulders as he brought his hands round to rub at his wrists. Then he rose to his feet slowly, as graceful as a cat, and glowered at Slade.

“Strip.” Deathstroke’s voice was low, amused, but still quite clearly an order.

“What?” Dick sounded incredulous. He shot a wide-eyed look at Jason, whose own expression probably mirrored his. “Now? Here?”

“Was I unclear?”

Dick’s face clouded over, but he reached up to start stripping off his uniform. The rasp of his zipper was horribly loud in the ensuing silence. More bruises were revealed as Dick peeled the fabric down, littered across his chest and shoulders, the indent of teeth over his left nipple.

“Looks like you managed fine without me,” Jason spat bitterly.

“I made do,” Slade said with a smirk, “but I like it when they don’t struggle.” His gaze was heavy as Dick stepped out of the fabric, hunger on his face. He beckoned Dick closer.

Privately, Jason thought that what Slade _actually_ liked was the manipulation, the fact that Dick was so clearly unwilling even as he pressed his naked body up against Slade’s chest. The last time he’d had Dick in his clutches, he’d been blackmailing him with his friends’ lives. And now he was using Jason instead.

One big hand came down to rest on the small of Dick’s back, trapping him against him as he took his mouth roughly. Jason’s throat closed in horror as it finally hit him that they were going to do this here - in front of him. Slade was going to rape Dick, and Jason was going to have to watch.

What Slade hadn’t counted on, however, was that two hostages were much harder to manage than one. He hadn’t gotten rid of Jason’s gloves, whether it was because he’d underestimated Jason, or he’d simply thought that he’d be able to keep him under control, it didn’t matter. Whilst Slade was distracted with Dick, Jason managed to slip the small blade out of his gloves and start sawing away at the ropes.

As Slade bent to press his mouth against Dick’s throat, Dick looked up and caught Jason’s eye, his jaw set. One hand slipped down underneath the waistband of Slade’s armour, pulling a low moan from the mercenary, and - distracted - he let the gun waver fractionally. Anybody else wouldn’t have even noticed, but Dick and Jason weren’t anybody else, they’d been trained by the best, and Dick reacted immediately.

He grabbed for the gun, jerking it up and away from Slade’s grip. Deathstroke was just as fast. The sound of the gun going off almost deafened Jason, sending adrenaline racing through his veins. Slade had pulled the trigger - probably instinctively - and it was only those precious few seconds of distraction that had saved Jason’s brains from being splattered over the wall. And to be honest, Jason rather liked his brains where they were - thank you very much.

As soon as the gun was out of his hands Slade struck, like a snake, his fist catching Dick’s jaw and sending both him and the gun clattering across the floor. Dick went with the momentum, rolling back and onto his feet, falling into a fighting stance. Slade smiled like a shark - too many teeth - and stood at his full, imposing, height.

“You’re going to regret that, pretty bird.”

Dick bared his teeth, muscles coiled like a big cat prepared to pounce, and then he was darting forwards, Slade moving to meet him.

It was like watching a dance. Dick was flipping about, darting in to deliver a punch or a kick, and then flitting out of the way again. Slade fought more like Bruce, using his strength and his weight, blocking hits easily and delivering brutal blows. Jason knew that Dick couldn’t win this fight. He was naked, and weak from a month of captivity, whilst Slade was fully armoured and physically stronger. He was playing with Dick.

Jason was so close to freedom he could almost taste it. He sawed frantically. Dick didn’t have to win, he just had to keep Deathstroke occupied long enough for Jason to get free.

The rope snapped just as Slade managed to get a hold of Dick, slamming him to the ground and following him down, pinning him with his weight. Fingers wrapped around Dick’s throat, squeezing until Dick was choking out horrible, wheezing breaths.

Jason lurched to his feet. Deathstroke had taken his utility belt - they always took the belt - but Jason had an emergency beacon sewn into the lining of his suit. He’d scoffed when Bruce had first suggested it, cocksure in the fact that he’d never have to use it, but now he was grateful for Bruce’s overprotective paranoia, not that he’d ever admit to it. He activated the beacon and could have cried at the small vibration beneath his fingers that signalled it was working.

“You want to do this the hard way Grayson?” Slade was growling into Dick’s face. “Fine. I’m going to enjoy _breaking_ you in front of the kid and then maybe, just because I can, I’ll fuck him too.”

Dick was twisting beneath Slade, lips curling in disgust even as the pressure on his throat eased.

“Do what you like to me Slade,” he hissed. “But don’t fucking touch Robin!”

Neither of them had noticed Jason, and yet he couldn’t seem to move. Burning rage was clawing its way up his throat, but underneath that was a creeping, insidious fear. Slade flipped Dick onto his stomach roughly, grinding his face into the floor with a hand on his head. Dick’s legs were crushed beneath Slade’s knees as Deathstroke forced them apart.

Dick let out a soft noise, muffled against the stone, and something in Jason snapped, the anger winning out over the fear. He launched himself at Slade with a howl, barrelling into his side.

It took Slade by surprise enough that Jason managed to knock him off of Dick, the two of them landing sprawled together. Slade recovered quickly, pulling Jason over his body and rolling them, pinning him beneath his bulk. Jason flailed, bringing his knee up in an attempt to force Deathstroke away and Slade levered a savage punch into his face. Jason cried out as his cheek exploded with pain, his head swimming.

“Eager to get started, little bird?” he purred, pressing closer. Panic was making Jason stupid - he couldn’t seem to get his limbs free, couldn’t seem to do anything but squirm fruitlessly.

But Dick was up - and furious. A brutal kick was aimed at Slade’s head, but he was ready this time and brought his hands up to grab Dick’s ankle, using the momentum to pull him off balance. Dick caught himself on his hands, twisting to bring his free leg down against Deathstroke’s shoulder, forcing the mercenary to let go with a grunt.

Jason wasn’t nearly as bendy as Dick, but with Slade’s weight no longer pressed against him, he could pull his legs out from under him and kick, knocking Slade further back. Jason scrambled to his feet as Dick circled to stand beside him. Dick’s eyes were wide as they met Jason’s, but immediately his face softened.

“It’s okay Little Wing, I’m not going to let him touch you.”

Jason felt heat rush immediately to his face. “Worry about yourself!” He snapped, scowling. Jason wasn’t some kind of damsel in distress that needed saving, and besides it was Dick who’d been held captive for a month, if anything Dick was the damsel.

“Not to interrupt the moment,” Slade said, rolling his eye, “but this is getting boring.”

This time the fight was a little less uneven, but - even Jason could admit - not by much. They had none of their weapons, Dick no armour, fighting in a small room against an opponent who was bigger, stronger, and more experienced than them. Each hit they landed felt like a victory, winning a battle even as they lost the war.

Still, by the time they were subdued again, Slade was panting hard and bleeding, so Jason wasn’t too bent out of shape about it - other than the fact that Slade was literally bending him out of shape. There was a knee in the small of his back and an arm around his throat, pulling him into an arch that, at best, was going to mean Jason had a very sore back tomorrow.

Dick was crouched a little further away, arms extended towards them as though he was debating snatching Jason out of Slade’s grip or attempting to talk Slade down. Neither of which were going to work.

“This was more trouble than it was worth,” Slade let out a huge sigh, like this was all just some big inconvenience for him. “I think I’ll save myself the bother and just kill the brat.”

Rather than applying a little more force and maybe breaking something important - or just turning Jason into a pretzel - there was the soft shick of a blade being unsheathed.

“Goodbye Little Bird.”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut, his heart hammering at the base of his throat. He couldn’t believe that this was how he was going to die, throat slit in some dingy room whilst Dick watched on.

“NO!” Dick shouted, startling Jason into opening his eyes. Then the door was bursting open with an almighty crash, the wood splintering and spraying across the floor. Stepping through the shattered remains, Batman. Jason had never been so happy to see him in all his life.

Batman was frozen for a moment. Jason imagined the scene was a lot to take in, Slade crouched over Jason with a blade at his throat, Dick naked beside them, arms outstretched pleadingly.

Slade stood in one smooth motion, dropping Jason forwards so abruptly that he hit his chin on the ground.

“Deathstroke.” A low growl. Batman was _angry_.

“Not you as well,” Slade said, sounding annoyed but not at all worried about the fact that Batman had just shown up. Jason squirmed backwards so that Slade no longer stood over him, and then Dick was grabbing him, pulling him to his feet and - annoyingly - pushing Jason behind him.

Slade looked between them, calculating, as Batman took a menacing step towards him.

“Three against one? That isn’t very fair.” He sighed dramatically and then reached down to pull a small handgun from its holster. Jason hadn’t realised he had another gun. He could have pulled it on them the whole time, he’d just been playing with them. Jason’s face felt hot with embarrassment and anger.

“I think it’s time for me to skedaddle. I’ll see you later pretty bird,” Slade said, shooting Dick a slick smile. Bruce’s jaw clenched at the nickname, his mouth flattening into an unhappy line.

Slade fired at him. Batman dodged - obviously - but was forced away from the door. When Slade slipped out Batman didn’t even go after him. Jason was surprised, but from Dick’s reaction he was surprised at all.

“Are you alright?” Batman asked, gruff. He caught Dick by the shoulder, giving him a once over. His mouth was pinched, nostrils flaring as he took in the bruises and bite marks scattered across Dick’s body. His fingers clenched hard enough that Jason could see them denting Dick’s skin.

“Fine,” Dick said, shaking him off. Bruce let him go and he made an immediate bee line for his discarded suit. Then Bruce was grabbing Jason’s face, gently, his fingers careful as he tilted him this way and that, examining the damage.

Jason’s cheek throbbed where Slade had punched him. It must have looked bad too because Bruce made a low, unhappy noise, his thumb sweeping across the bruise. Jason hissed at the sharp spike of pain and pushed Bruce away.

“I’m fine B.”

“He’s got a couple of broken fingers too,” Dick said. Now fully dressed he looked much more settled and confident. Jason snatched his hands away before Bruce could grab them, shooting Dick a betrayed look.

“I’ll take a look back at the cave,” Bruce said, moving towards the door with the surety of a man who knew he would be followed.

“Yeah, I’m going back to my apartment...in Bludhaven,” Dick rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck as Bruce froze, turning to fix him with a steely glare.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“Dick you’ve been missing for a _month_ , you are coming back with us.”

Dick’s face had arranged itself into an annoyingly stubborn express, not that Bruce’s was much better. If Jason didn’t say something soon there was going to be a fight.

“Just come back with us,” Jason said, trying to make it sound like an order rather than a plea.

Dick’s face softened and he reached out to ruffle Jason’s hair. “I’m sorry about dragging you into this mess Little Wing.”

“What? You’re apologising? To me?”

Dick huffed. “Well I know I don’t do it very often, but yeah I am.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Jason snapped, ducking away from his hand. Trust Dick to blame himself for all this when it had been Deathstroke who had kidnapped - damn it _abducted_ \- both of them. “It wasn’t your fault, Slade’s the skeezy old perv.”

Dick winced at that, as did Bruce, and okay Jason probably could have worded that a little better, but he’d gotten his point across.

Something was bugging Jason though. Another piece of the puzzle that he couldn’t quite work out.

“You knew about this!” He turned to fix his own glare on Bruce. He had to, he hadn’t been surprised at seeing Dick naked and bruised, just angry. “You knew that Slade was a sick fuck and yet you let Dick fight him anyway!”

“Nightwing is an adult,” Bruce said stonily. “He can make his own decisions.”

“Yeah like my decision to _not_ go to the cave.”

Bruce sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “Dick we’ve all been...worried about you.” It looked like it pained him, this admission of emotion. “At least let Alfred see you’re alive.”

Guilt was painted across Dick’s face. If the moment wasn’t so cloyingly sentimental - for them anyway - Jason might have shouted gotcha! Using Alfred was a dirty move.

“Fine,” Dick said eventually, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “But I’m not staying.”

They could work with that. Well Jason could work with that anyway, Bruce was far more likely to make everything worse. Jason suddenly, desperately, wanted to go home and just forget about this whole miserable day.

Dick slung an arm over his shoulder and pulled him into an awkward sideways hug, steering them both out of the room. Jason made a show of grumbling but he didn’t pull away.

They were going to be fine, and next time Jason saw Deathstroke, he was going to make him regret ever laying a hand on his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I have a tumblr at nightwang96 if you want to stop by for a chat!


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